


The Gift That Keeps On Giving

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the team steps into a domestic dispute things take a dangerous turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift That Keeps On Giving

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Good to Go #1 and in Compadres #20 under the pen name Becca Koldfurr.

**Hermosa Beach** **, California**

**1000 hours**

 

The warm morning sun warmed the sand and sparkled off the nearby surf that rolled lazily up the edge of the beach.  The Tuesday morning crowd was thin, the five-member covert operations team having no trouble finding an open volleyball net near the Silver Star, an old, and currently closed hotel they called their base of operations.

Jason "Chance" Walker carefully positioned a thick beach towel, then slowly lowered himself down to stretch out while the others watched, ready to help if he needed them.  The already warm sand radiated just enough heat to ease his still-aching muscles.  Still recovering from a recent airplane crash, the handsome black man had volunteered to act as their line judge, sparing himself the exertion of a game and still escaping the walls he'd been staring at for several days while he "rested" per his doctor's orders.[1]

A coin toss determined who the two-person teams would be – Benny Ray and Margo against Matt and C.J.  Having lost the toss to pick his teammate, Matt opted for the side of the court that put the sun to his and C.J.'s back – a small advantage he knew he was going to need.

Benny Ray and Margo both slipped on their sunglasses and positioned themselves to receive the serve, a pounding blow from Matt that knifed over the top of the net.  Margo moved gracefully under it, popping the ball up.  Benny Ray slapped it back over the net just outside of the reach of the two men.  He grinned. "Slow as a hound with a cold," he chastised the pair.

"Just serve the ball," Matt growled, tossing the ball back to the pair…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Forty minutes later the game was one point away from a win. Matt Shepherd, leader of the merry band of commandos, wiped the sweat off his well-tanned forehead with the back of his hand and waited for the inevitable.  His light brown eyes studied Margo as she prepared to serve the final blow.  With the dark sunglasses on he couldn't see her penetrating grey eyes, or where she was focusing the serve.  And Benny Ray wasn't any help either.  He was focused on his opponents, using the same intense, single-minded stare he employed when peering through his sniper's scope at a doomed target.  And that was exactly how Matt felt, doomed.

Benny Ray would be ready to respond to whatever Matt or C.J. managed in response to the serve.  All the practice Benny Ray had built up playing two-man beach volleyball with Chance had obviously paid off.

Matt sighed.  Damn, he hated losing.

Margo tossed the ball into the air, preparing to serve and Matt noted the way the sunlight accented the red in her dark auburn hair.  She was a beautiful woman, and deadly.  She struck the ball, sending it streaking just over the top of the net.  Matt lunged, managing to get under the ball and popping it up to C.J., who set the ball.  Matt spiked it back over the net.

But Benny Ray was there, blocking the ball and reflecting it back with bullet-like speed.  Matt and C.J. both lunged, but neither could reach the ball in time.  It slammed into the sand and bounced away.

"Yes!" Margo cried, slapping Benny Ray's waiting palms. "That's game!"

The ball, rolling towards the surf, prompted Matt to chase after it before it was lost in the waves.  The army major jogged along, grinning at several shapely young women who flashed him inviting smiles.  He knew they'd been watching the game, and he was glad to see that his loss hadn't tarnished his image too severely.

Reaching the ball, Matt bent over and scooped it up in one fluid motion.  Close by a young man was loudly carping at his female companion.  The girl, a young blonde, shrank back on her beach towel, her chin tucked in to her shoulder, her eyes averted.  She was scared.

Matt straightened slowly, his gaze automatically studying the man.  He was several years older than the girl, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six, in good shape – in an amateur athlete kind of way – and with spending money, if the two gold rings, Rolex, diamond-stud earring and designer swim trunks were any indication.

The woman glanced up briefly, large amber-colored eyes meeting Matt's for a brief moment.

_Definitely scared_.

Matt's jaw tightened and he squeezed the volleyball between his hands.

"What the hell're you lookin' at?" the man demanded, his gaze whipping from the girl to Matt and back again.

The ex-Delta Force operator knew the question was directed at the girl, but he couldn't stop himself from replying, "Why don't you tell me?"

"Rich Boy," as Matt immediately tagged him, straightened and turned.  A cold, pale blue gaze swept over Shepherd, then he snorted softly, dismissing the soldier.  "Get the hell outta here," he said, turning back to the girl.

She quickly looked away again, a soft sob escaping her throat.  Rich Boy grabbed her arm, and she squealed softly as his angry grip pinched the soft tissue near her underarm.  Going slightly limp, she waited for the blow she knew was coming.

"Hey," Matt snapped, his anger flaring.  "I think you better leave the lady alone."

"Fuck off, asshole," the man snarled, not bothering to look at Shepherd.  He drew his hand back, but his wrist was immediately snared in a vice-like grip.  He took a step and spun, anger and surprise on his well-tanned face.

Matt released him, reining in his desire to flatten the man with a swift knife-hand blow to the throat.  "I said, leave the lady alone," he repeated, his voice hard and determined.

Watching the muscles along Rich Boy's jaw twitch with anger, Matt dropped into a slight crouch that was invisible to anyone but another operator.  He was ready in case Rich Boy charged or attacked.  But the man's gaze slipped past Matt, resting briefly on each member of the commando team who now stood in a semi-circle just behind Shepherd.

The man snorted.  "Stackin' the odds a little, aren't ya, Hoss?"

Matt grinned slightly.  "Nope.  They're just here to pick up the trash when I get done."

Rich Boy gave a brief barking laugh and shook his head.  "Who the hell do you think you are, G.I. Jane?"

"That would be her," C.J. replied, hiking a thumb at Margo, a predatory grin on his lips.  "He's more like, uh, Rambo."

The man smiled, but the half-feral expression disappeared immediately when Margo instructed the young woman to "come over here."  He reached out, grabbing her arm as she stood.  "Where the hell you think you're goin', slut?"

The girl immediately looked down, drawing into herself like a shell-less turtle trying to escape danger.

Matt took a step closer, his eyes flashing.  "You don't have to put up with this," he said softly.  "There are places you can go, people who can help you."

She looked up just far enough to see Matt's face through the curtain of her blonde hair.  Her voice was pitched just above a whisper.  "Please–"

"Please, what?" Rich Boy demanded, giving her a rough shake.  "You're not goin' anywhere."

"Mister, I wouldn't do that if I was you," Benny Ray growled, advancing on the man with deadly intent.

Matt reached out, stopping the sniper with a hand on his arm.  "We won't hurt you," he said, his comments and attention completely on the girl.  "If you want to leave, you can.  We can help you."

"Look, I don't know who the hell you people think you are, but she's _not_ goin' anywhere.  Now, get the hell away from me before I–"

"Before you what?" Benny Ray hissed, blue eyes narrowing menacingly.  "Hit a defenseless woman again?"

The man drew himself up, but his bluster and confidence began to melt under the deadly appraisal of the five people nearly surrounding him.  "She's my–"

"You _don't_ own her," Margo snapped.  She looked at the girl, adding, "Nobody does."

"There's a place not far from here," Matt continued addressing the girl.  "It's church run.  They help women like you.  We can take you there.  You'll be safe.  I promise."

The man squeezed her arm harder, causing the girl's knees to buckle slightly. She stumbled and squealed, but kept her feet.  "You'll never be safe," Rich Boy hissed lowly.  "I'll find you, I swear it, and then you'll wish you were dead."

"Come on," Matt said, extending his hand to the girl.  He needed to get her away from the man before he lost what little control he had left and beat the man to a bloody pulp.  Or Benny Ray beat him to it.

"Marty, please," she begged softly, "you're hurting me."

"I'll hurt you real bad if you think you can just–"

"Mister, I'm runnin' out of patience," Benny Ray hissed, muscles along his jaws twitching.  "You let her go.  Now."

"Better listen to the man," Chance added.

C.J. grinned.  "Cops are probably on the way by now.  Looks like we're drawing quite an audience.  Probably see it all on the six o'clock news."

Marty glanced around, realizing for the first time that everyone within twenty yards was now watching the confrontation.  The cops he didn't need.  He shoved the girl toward Matt, who caught her before she could fall.  "You're mine, Jilly.  I'll find you, and you'll–"

Benny Ray took another step closer to the man, putting him about a foot short of in the man's face.  "The only thing you're gonna find around here is trouble, sport.  Remember that."

Taking a step back, Marty reached down and grabbed a dark silk jacket and a set of car keys on an Armani keychain off the large gold beach towel.  With one last look at the girl he snapped, "Bitch.  Worthless fuckin' whore!"

"Get out of here," Matt said, his voice low and hard.  "Now."

Kicking the towel they'd been sitting on into a heap, Rich Boy stormed away.  "I'll find you, Jilly!" he called back over his shoulder.

The girl watched him leave, breaking into deep, wracking sobs.  Margo slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders and led her back to the Silver Star.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Sacred Heart Church**

**Hermosa Beach** **, CA**

**1105 hours**

 

The older priest handed the girl a kleenex.  "Now, let's start with an easy one, I'm Father Bob, and you are…?"

"Jill," the girl sniffed.  "Jill Tammany."

"Well, Jill, you're safe here."

She shook her head.  "I'll never be safe.  Marty'll find me.  He'll kill me.  I know it."

The sad expression on the Father's face said clearly that he'd heard the same story far too many times before.  "Well, not while you're here," he assured.  "Where did you meet this Marty?"

She shrugged.  "I ran away," was the whispered reply.  "Three years ago.  I was living on the streets, in Hollywood.  Marty saw me…"

The priest reached out, resting a reassuring hand on the young woman's shoulder.  "Maybe you'd feel more comfortable talking to one of our lady volunteers?"

She shook her head.  "It's okay.  I used to go to Sunday school."

Father Bob grinned thinly.  "Go on.  He found you in Hollywood?"

She looked up at him, her large blue eyes rounded with fear and hope.  "Is this like a confession, Father?"

The priest cocked his head to one side, then nodded.  "It could be, if you wanted."

She sighed heavily.  "I think I better."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Some time later Father Bob escorted Jill to the shelter that occupied the rear area of the big church building.  Nancy, one of the long-time volunteers, took over, leading Jill up to a small but comfortable room on the second floor.  He watched the eighteen-year-old go and shook his head sadly.  Since retiring from the Marine Corp and joining the priesthood he'd heard and seen a lot of pain, and Jill's story was nothing he hadn't heard many times before.  But for some reason her tale of sexual abuse at home, trepidation about living on the streets, and her eventual descent into the drug/porn scene haunted him.  Maybe it was the lingering innocence that clung to the girl like a weak aura.  In any case, he was grateful that Matt and the others had brought her to the shelter.

"Hey, you," a voice barked.  "I wanna talk to you!"

Father Bob turned.  He knew immediately that the man littering his church was Martin Slate.  _Has to be a name he made up_ , the priest decided, recognizing the man Matt had described as "Rich Boy."

"Can I help you?" he asked, trying to sound civil.

"My girlfriend.  I want her."

"I think you better leave," the priest said, turning away.

"I said, I came for my girlfriend," Marty snarled, taking a step closer to the priest.

Father Bob's eyes narrowed and he turned back slowly.  "Listen, you will **not** cause trouble here," he stated matter-of-factly.

Slate snorted.  "Yeah, old man?  What do you have?  An army hiding in there?"

A smile curled the corners of the priest's lips.  "Son, I don't need an army, I've got one good Marine."

Slate glanced around.  "Just one?"

"Just one," the priest said, taking another step closer.  "Would you like to meet him?  Up close and personal?"

Slate drew himself up, but then took a step back.  "No.  I _don't_ wanna meet him.  You just tell Jilly that I'll be back.  She can't stay here forever."

"If I were you, I'd go find yourself another pigeon.  Jill's finished with your life."

Slate snorted and smiled.  "Yeah, right."

"Now, I think you better leave before we call the police."

He nodded.  "Fine.  I'm outta here.  But I _will_ be back."

"No," the priest countered, "you won't."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Outside, Marty Slate cursed and kicked the front tire of his sleek black Jaguar. "Little bitch," he hissed.  "And those assholes…  Who the hell do they think they are?"

He stopped, a plan beginning to take shape in his mind.  With a sharp smile he climbed into his car and headed back to the beach.  He parked and tossed his silk jacket onto the passenger seat before locking the doors and heading out along the sidewalk that paralleled the beach.

Not finding any of the team, Slate took a seat at one of the Snack Shack counters where he could stare out the restaurant's windows to the sand and surf beyond.  He ordered a burger, fries and a coke, then ate slowly while he watched and waited.

He was cramming the last three fries into his mouth when he finally spotted what he was looking for – one of the men from that morning.  Sucking once more on his straw, he finished the soda, then pulled a ten out of his pocket and slapped it on top of the check and headed for the door.

He stopped still inside the restaurant when the man he was watching paused to talk to a pretty young woman in a tight thong bikini that displayed her assets to great effect.  One of the counter girls passed him, and he grabbed her arm.  "Hey, you know that guy?"

The teenager leaned back to glance through the glass portion of the door, then smiled.  "Oh sure, that's Benny Ray.  He and his friends hang out at the Silver Star."

"Silver Star?"

The girl nodded toward the old, rundown hotel not far away.  "That big building over there.  I think they're fixing it up or something."

"His friend, white guy, tall, dark hair–"

"Matt," the girl said, her eyes filling with that particular doe-like quality that only a teenager could manage.

"Yeah, Matt, that's it," he said, his eyes narrowing as he watched Benny Ray continue on to the old hotel.  Marty looked back at the girl and turned on the charm. "I guess you're a real expert on the folks around here, huh?"

She grinned and shrugged, tucking a stray strand of dyed blonde hair behind her ear.  "I guess.  Most of the locals come in here to eat.  Food's good and the prices low."

Slate nodded, walking her back to the counter and sitting down.  He flashed her a winning smile and hiked his eyebrows slightly.  "Yeah.  I'm new to the area, but, uh, I can tell I'm gonna like this place already."

The girl blushed slightly, but smiled, enjoying his flirtation.  "You know Matt and Benny Ray?"

"Just met 'em today," he admitted, running a hand over his short black hair.  "But I didn't get a chance to get their names.  They were busy, playing volleyball."

 

She nodded.  "Yeah, they play a lot.  They're getting better."

"Oh, yeah?  Well, they seem like real nice people."

Another nod.  "They are."

"What's the rest of their names?" he asked, then added quickly with a smile, "and what's yours?"

"I'm Mandy," she said, dipping her head slightly as her cheeks turned rosy.

"That's a pretty name," he crooned.

"My mom's a Barry Manalow fan."

"Look why don't you get me a shake?  Chocolate."

"Okay," she said.  "Oh, and Chance is the black guy.  C.J.'s the short guy from England, and Margo's the lady who hangs out with them."

"Chance, C.J. and Margo," he repeated.  "Great.  Now, how about that shake? Are you in college?"

She giggled, moving off to fix the drink.  "I'll be a junior in high school next year."

"Wow, you look older," he lied, nodding to himself and leaning back in his chair.  A few more compliments and a little time and he'd have all the information he'd need from Mandy.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

For the next five days Marty hung out on the beach, keeping a low profile and watching the comings and goings of the team, spotting a schedule almost immediately.  They were up very early, running along the beach as a group before tourists and locals arrived.  All but the black guy.  Then they disappeared into the Silver Star for several hours, doing whatever it was they did in there.  Slate doubted it was renovation work like Mandy suggested, given that he saw no supplies being hauled in, or debris being hauled out.

Later in the morning they came out and played volleyball.  The black guy sat and watched.  And given the way he moved, Marty guessed he was nursing some broken ribs.  Every other day or so they ate lunch at the Snack Shack.  Afternoons and evenings they were unpredictable, but he knew enough.  He'd take care of these clowns, then he'd find Jilly and show her who really called the shots…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Knock, knock?"

The teenager in the Snack Shack's kitchen looked up from where he was wrist-deep making the day's quota of tuna salad and said, "We're not open yet."

Marty smiled his best "buddy" smile and nodded.  "Yeah, I know.  I, uh, have a favor.  I need your help."

"Help?" the boy echoed, giving the man a suspicious but mildly curious look.  "What for?  I've gotta get this tuna fixed before we open."

"Well, I guess I should've said I need a favor."

"What're you talking about?" the kid asked, glancing down at the large knife he used to dice the celery and calculating how fast he could snatch it up.  Maybe this guy was some _Scream_ guy or something.

Marty moved closer and dropped his voice, inviting the kid into his confidence.  "This is a little embarrassing," he admitted, chuckling softly.  "You know the guys who hang out at the Silver Star?"

The kid shrugged.  "Don't know 'em.  But they eat in here sometimes."

"Well, Matt's– He's one of them– He's an old friend of mine.  We went to high school together."  He studied the boy's face; he was relaxing and getting interested. "And, well, I've just moved to town and ol' Matt thought it'd be funny as hell to play a prank on me.  He, uh, gave the movers who were hauling my stuff the address for the city dump."

The kid's eyes widened.  "Oh, man, that really sucks!  Did they dump it?  Your stuff?"

Marty shook his head.  "Naw, they called me, but I had to smooth things over and give 'em a big tip since they had to drive all the way back over here."

The boy laughed.  "That was pretty good."

"Yeah, well, back in high school ol' Matt and I used to play pranks on each other all the time.  I was hoping that you might, uh, help me get even."  He wagged his eyebrows conspiratorially.

"Get even?" the boy asked, his earlier fear forgotten.  "How?  What could I do?"

Marty leaned closer, his voice dropping even further as he pulled a small glass vial out of his shirt pocket.  Inside was a pale, cream-colored powder.  "This."

"What's that?"

"It's a harmless chemical, but it, uh…"  He glanced around, making sure they were alone and hooking the boy completely.  He continued in a whisper, "It makes your pee turn bright green.  Neon, man."

"You're shittin' me!" the kid said, and Marty knew he'd picked the right story to appeal to the boy's adolescent sensibilities.

Slate raised his index finger to his lips.  "Shh.  I'm telling you the truth.  It's perfectly harmless, but that's the side effect."

"What're you gonna do with it?"

"I want you to slip it into Matt's food."

"Me?" the boy asked, hesitation leaping into his eyes.

"Like I said, it's perfectly safe," Marty reassured him.  He unscrewed the cap and dipped the tip of his little finger into the powder, then touched it to the tip of his tongue.  "See?  That's why it takes this much to do the job."

"Yeah, but if I get caught putting something in somebody's food I could get fired."

"If you get caught I'll cover for you," Slate assured.  "I promise.  And Matt will, too.  I just want to pay Matt back for that nasty trick.  I mean, if I let this slide he and his friends are gonna give me a rash of shit, you know what I mean?  Ol' Benny Ray, and Chance, and C.J. and Margo, they're playin' tricks on each other all the time."

The boy nodded.  "But it's safe?"

"Absolutely," Marty lied.  "All you have to do is put it in his food or his drink.  You can even mix it into a hamburger patty before you cook it."

"Yeah?"

Marty nodded.  "So, you game?"

The boy looked down.  "Uh, I guess."

"Great!" Marty said, fishing into his pocket and pulling out a thickly stuffed money clip.  "Tell you what, I'll even pay you to help me out."

The boy's head snapped up.  "Pay me?"

Slate handed the boy a hundred dollar bill.  "But you have to keep this our little secret.  If Matt gets wind of this beforehand I know he'll–"

"Oh, I won't tell nobody," the kid assured, shoving the money into his pocket. "I swear."

"I really appreciate this," Marty said sincerely, handing the vial to the boy.  "Now, let me tell you what Matt looks like so you don't scare the hell out of an innocent man, or one of his friends…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

C.J. pushed the door to the Snack Shack open and held it while the others entered.  The group took the big booth in one of the back corners and settled in.

In the kitchen the boy saw them and grinned.  "Boy, is that guy gonna be surprised," he said softly to himself.  "Green pee… he'll probably think he's got AIDs or something."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Back at the Silver Star after lunch the five member team drifted off to pursue their own tasks.  Leaving Margo reading, Chance and C.J. playing a raucous battle at the computer terminals, and Benny Ray working on his motorcycle, Matt headed for his office and the latest stack of paperwork that waited for him.  He grinned slightly and shook his head.  When he'd left the Army he'd hoped he'd left the endless stream of paperwork behind him, but Trout had made sure that wasn't the case.  With a sigh, he opened the file sitting on the top of the four-inch stack and grabbed a pen.

About an hour later the neatly typed words wavered on the page, undulating like some kind of weird print-eel in a sea of white.  Matt blinked, trying to dispel the effect, but the words began to twist and spin, resolving themselves into images he'd hoped to forget.

 _Bosnia_.

The sounds of automatic weapons fire and grenade explosions erupted in his mind, transporting him back to the mountains where he was fighting for his life.[2]  Pressing his hands solidly against the top of the desk, Matt shook his head, muttering, "This is _not_ Bosnia."

Laughter from C.J. and Chance echoed into the small office, transformed into the barked orders of the Serbian soldiers pursuing him.

"No," Matt hissed.  "We made it.  Benny Ray saved our sorry asses.  Everyone came home.  I'm _not_ in Bosnia."

Another peal of laughter reached Matt's ears as the _rat-at-tat_ of gunfire.  Pushing his chair back from his desk, the ex-major pulled in on himself, snugging his arms tightly against his chest as a fine film of sweat broke out across his chest, back and face.  His gaze darted around the room, watching in horror as the walls, file cabinets and other items bent and curled into trees, shadows and the silhouettes of enemy soldiers slowly stalking him.

Matt threw himself out of the chair, diving for the cover his desk offered from the nightmarish images.  They were closing in on him, stalking him, hunting him.  Reaching up, he touched the cold metal surface of the desk and immediately jerked his hand away.  Looking at his palm, all Matt could see was blood.  He looked at the floor, finding Benny Ray lying twisted and dead on the ground.

"No," he mewed roughly, scrambling back away from the oozing body.  He dumped into his chair and scrambled around again with a soft gasp.

C.J. also lay on the ground, staring up at him through dead, accusing eyes.  "You killed us," the corpse hissed.  "We never had a chance."

Matt sucked in a breath and crawled toward the door, trying to escape the clawing chill and stench of death that threatened to overpower him.  He'd killed them.  He'd killed them all.

He stopped short, the sound of voices freezing him in the shadows on the floor.  The enemy was out there, lying in wait to ambush him.  He turned back, crawling on his elbows and belly to the desk.  Hiding behind it, he nervously rifled through the drawers until he found what he knew was there – the M9.

Clutching the gun in his hand, he crawled back to the doorway.  Looking out into the large, open basement, Matt did not see the familiar furniture; he saw trees, the remains of bombed walls, and enemy soldiers.  He squeezed the butt of the weapon tighter and crawled out of the office.  His gaze flickered from the two soldiers sitting along the remains of a wall to a third who stood guard nearby.  In all three cases the outlines of the soldier's bodies contorted in wholly unnatural ways, making them look more like demons than men.  He shifted into a crouch.

"Matt?" Margo asked her eyes going wide when she spotted the man.

Shepherd sprang to his feet, the gun coming up.

"Major!" Chance snapped, redirecting the weapon's aim from Margo to he and C.J.  He pushed himself to his feet, one arm pulled in tight against his protesting ribs.

"Easy, mate," C.J. said, also standing and taking a half-step away from the computer, his hands coming up away from his body in a placating gesture.

"Don't move," Matt hissed, his gaze springing from one to another and another.

"Matt?" Margo tried again, her voice pitched low and calm.

In his mind, Matt saw the weapons in the hands of each of the three, although their faces were nothing but misty shadows as they had been that night in Bosnia, absent of features and compassion.  His hands started to shake and it was hard to draw a breath.  He began to pant.

"Major," C.J. said, inching forward, his hands still held well clear of his body.  "What's going on?"

In Matt's mind C.J.'s outstretched hands appeared to be hefting a rifle to shoot him.  Without thinking, Matt pulled the trigger.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Benny Ray, bending over his motorcycle, snapped straight when he heard the weapon's report echo inside the Silver Star, followed by several loud verbal exchanges.  Without conscious thought he bent, drawing the Glock from his ankle holster and moving to the door.  Being careful to stay outside the possible fire zone through the door, Benny Ray positioned himself to enter the building the way he had in thousands of training exercises with the SEALs.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out and grabbed the doorknob.  With one swift jerk, Benny Ray yanked the door open, immediately "buttonhooking" – rolling around the door frame – to the right and pressing tightly against the inside wall.  When there was no reaction from inside, he moved swiftly but cautiously down the stairs, his weapon at the ready.  At the bottom of the steps he paused, listening.

"Matt, just take it easy," Margo pleaded.  "Please.  It's just us, we're not going to hurt you."

The ex-marine's brow wrinkled.  _What the hell's goin' on?_  Needing to know, he edged around the wall and froze.

Matt stood, his weapon raised and moving jerkily from Chance to Margo and back again.  C.J. lay on the floor, blood pooling beneath his right shoulder.  The injured man's eyes were open, and his pain-filled gaze met Benny Ray's, silently asking for help.  The sniper nodded once.

He leveled the Glock on Shepherd and swallowed hard.  As he inched forward he could feel the sweat break out on his scalp, rising up along the short hairs of his flat-top haircut and running down his temples and the back of his neck.  His hands trembled once.

_God Almighty…  Don't make me kill you, Major…_

Margo's gaze slipped past Matt to pin Benny Ray, stopping his forward movement.  "Matt, listen to me, please, we're _not_ in Bosnia.  We're home.  The Silver Star."

Shepherd squeezed the butt of the Beretta tighter, wishing he understood the language the soldier was speaking.  When she started to bend down, saying, "You're safe.  We're not going to hurt you," he jabbed the gun at her, snapping, "Stand up!  Keep your hands up!"

Benny Ray's mind raced.  Matt thought he was back in Bosnia, a mission that had immediately disintegrated into a complete disaster.  Margo and Chance had gone to meet one of her contacts, who double-crossed them.  He, Matt and C.J. had been caught in the hills by the Serbian army, who were supposed to be in another sector.  They'd almost died.  And now Matt was back there, C.J. was down, and Benny Ray might be the only hope the other two had.

The sniper blinked to clear the sweat that clung to his eyelashes, and forced a deep, steadying breath.  "Major?" he drawled in soft Alabama tones as he silently prayed he could get through to the man.  "Got your six, sir."

Shepherd dropped into a slight crouch and turned slightly, his aim refocusing on the sniper.  Intelligently Margo and Chance remained frozen in place until Matt's attention was completely focused on Benny Ray.

Benny Ray's finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger, but he didn't fire.  He couldn't.  This man was his friend, not a target.  His throat tightened in the fraction of a second it took Shepherd to decide not to kill him.

Recognition sparked in the man's brown eyes and he cocked his head slightly to the side.  "Benny Ray?" Matt said thickly, a confused expression flashing across his face, followed closely by profound relief.  Shepherd immediately swung back to cover the other two, but they were no longer standing where he'd left them.

Margo and Chance had squatted down to check on C.J.  Chance, stripping off his t-shirt and using it to apply pressure to the shoulder wound, stanched some of the blood flow.

Matt saw them and growled "Stand up," as he gestured at the pair with the Beretta.  "Now."  A nervous chuckle cleared his lips.  "That really you, Benny Ray?"

The sniper lowered his weapon, swallowing hard, but kept it ready.  "Yeah, Boss, it's me.  What's goin' on?"

"You're not here.  You're dead," Matt countered, shaking his head slightly.  "I left you out there alone.  You're dead, Benny Ray."

The sniper moved closer, shifting so he was in Matt's line of sight along with the other two.  He offered the man a crooked smile.  "Hell, Major, you know I ain't that easy to kill."  He noted the moisture that collected in Shepherd's eyes, the friendship it represented reinforcing his resolve to end the standoff without anyone else getting hurt.  He simply couldn't kill the man.  But if he went for a disabling shot, he might cost Chance or Margo their life.

Matt nodded.  "Everyone comes home," he said softly.  "I thought I was going to have to leave you there, Benny Ray.  I really did."

"What'dya got?" the sniper asked, his gaze shifting to the pair.  They were scared, but they wouldn't do anything to escalate the situation; that much he knew for a fact.

Matt's attention refocused on Margo and Chance.  "Enemy soldiers.  They were trying to find me, to kill me.  We don't have time to take prisoners, Benny Ray. We've got to–"

"I'll secure 'em, Major," Benny Ray said, moving forward, his weapon up and trained on Margo, who swallowed once and met his eyes.  She understood what he was doing.

"Careful," Matt said, shaking his head to try and chase the vertigo away.  "They're armed."

"Roger that.  It's under control," Benny Ray said, moving closer.  "Come on," he said, taking hold of Margo's arm.  He gestured at Chance with the weapon, urging him out of the large open room and toward the kitchen area.

Staring down at C.J., Matt swallowed hard, wondering why his stomach was suddenly rebelling.  He didn't know this man.  He was safe now.  Benny Ray was there.  All he had to do was watch the injured man.  The sniper would take care of the other two.

Keeping himself between Matt and his other teammates, Benny Ray walked them into the kitchen and out of Matt's line of sight.  "Get an ambulance, _pronto_ ," he said softly.

The pair nodded.  "Be careful," Margo added.

Without replying, Benny Ray turned and headed back to join Shepherd.  Stepping into the room, he said, "They won't be causin' us any more trouble, Boss."

Matt's eyes widened.  "There were no shots," he snapped, the Beretta coming up to center on Benny Ray's chest.

"Easy, Boss," he replied, his sweat-dampened grip tightening on the Glock.  "I didn't want to give away our position.  But they're not gonna give us any more trouble.  That's a promise."

"Good, good," Matt said, swaying on his feet.  He took a step back to steady himself.  The gun dropped, dangling loosely in the man's grasp.  "This one, I think he's still alive…"

Knowing he had to distract Shepherd, the sniper grabbed onto the first idea that popped into his thoughts.  "You hit, Major?" he asked, moving closer, a concerned expression on his face.  "You don't look so good," he added truthfully.

Matt took several steps back, then leaned against the large table in the center of the room.  "I don't think so…" he said, trailing off as the room bucked like a boat caught in a storm.

"You sure are, Boss," Benny Ray lied.  "Come on, we gotta call Chance, get the hell outta here."

Shepherd nodded, allowing Benny Ray to ease him to his feet.  "Get out of here," he repeated, swaying again as the room spun and dipped.  His head snapped up.  "We-We can't.  We can't.  C.J.  C.J.'s out there.  Everyone comes home, Benny Ray, everyone."

"Take it easy, Major," Benny Ray said, stepping up alongside the man.  "We'll find him, but first I gotta get a look at that wound."

"Wound?"

"Yes, sir.  Come on, we're gonna need some cover."  With a gentle but insistent touch, the sniper maneuvered Matt back into his office and had him sit on the small couch.  "Give me your weapon," he said firmly.

"But–"

"I'm empty, Boss.  I just wanna make sure nobody sneaks up on us, that's all."

Matt studied the man, watching him set his "empty" weapon aside.  "We're low on ammo…  They're closin' in."

Benny Ray held out his hand.  "I'll keep an eye out, Major.  They ain't gettin' past me."

Shepherd hesitated a moment, then handed the man the gun.  "I killed you, Benny Ray," he said, his voice choked.  "God, I didn't mean to…  I didn't mean to."

"Easy, Matt," Benny Ray soothed, setting the gun aside and having the man lean back on the couch.  He glanced out the doorway, watching Chance and Margo pull C.J. to safety.  "We'll be okay here until Chance can come get us."

"You contacted him?" Matt asked, his voice slurred and thick.  He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the haunting images away.  "We missed our check-in– radio–"

"Radio was okay.  I made the call.  Help's on the way."

"Margo?  Is Margo with him?"

"Yes, sir.  They're okay, Major.  Chance and Margo are comin' to get us."

"We have to find C.J.," Matt said, trying to sit up.  "I can't leave–"

Benny Ray reached out and pushed him back down.  "You're not goin' anywhere with that injury, Major.  You won't be helpin' C.J. if you get yourself killed. He knows where the rally point is.  He'll be there."

Matt's eyes widened and his unfocused gaze frantically sought out Benny Ray's.  "You have to find him."

The sniper's jaw muscles twitched.  He couldn't leave Shepherd alone; there was no telling what he might do.  A light tap across the room caught his attention and he glanced through the doorway again.  Margo signaled.  _Time to go_.

"They're here!" Matt snapped, lunging for the gun.

Benny Ray reacted instantly, apprehending Shepherd in a firm but gentle chokehold before his hands reached the Beretta.

"Benny Ray!" the man cried, his arms flailing.  "What're you doing?!"

"Sorry, Boss," the sniper said softly as he applied just enough pressure to render the man unconscious.  _Please, Lord, don't let me hurt him._   "Margo!"

The ex-CIA field operative stopped just inside the doorway to the small office. "Is he–?"

"Get those medics in here!"

"They're working on C.J.," she said.  "There's another ambulance on the way. I'll see if it's there."

A few moments later, Shepherd moaned, fighting weakly against the sniper's grip.  "Whoa, easy, Major.  Hear that?" the sniper asked, silently praying that the man bought his story.

"They're getting closer," Matt gasped, groping again for the weapon he'd surrendered.

"No, sir, it's Chance.  Time t' make tracks, boss."  Reaching out, Benny Ray took Matt's arm and helped him to stand.  Shepherd swayed and his knees started to buckle, but the sniper's tight grip kept the man on his feet.  "Come on, C.J.'s at the rally point; they're just waitin' on us."

Matt met Benny Ray's concerned gaze.  "I killed you.  You're dead, Benny Ray."

"Hang in there, Matt," he said, pulling the man's arm over his shoulder and wrapping his own arm around Matt's middle.  Then, half-dragging and half-carrying Shepherd, he headed for the waiting ambulance.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Outside, two paramedics worked over C.J.  Two others were moving toward the door with Margo.  When they spotted the pair they rushed forward to help Benny Ray.

Margo stopped, her gaze shifting between C.J. and Matt.  Chance hovered near C.J., occasionally asking the medics questions.

The medics reached Matt and Benny Ray, one asking, "She says he's high on something."

"I think so," Benny Ray said.  "He was hallucinatin'."

"Okay, maybe you better move back," the medic said.

Benny Ray shook his head as Shepherd tensed, trying to focus on the paramedics.  "Easy, Boss," he said.  "They're our guys."

"Ours?"

"Sure enough," Benny Ray, said, waving the man off.  "Just a little more."

Escorting Matt to the open rear of the second ambulance, they passed the stretcher where C.J. lay.  Shepherd pulled himself up.  "C.J.?"

"Told ya he'd be at the rally point.  He'll be okay, Matt, but we've gotta get the hell out of Dodge."

He turned to meet Benny Ray's concerned gaze.  It was over.  They were safe.  Matt nodded, then collapsed in the sniper's grasp, unconscious.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Benny Ray stalked down the hospital hallway, three nurses and two visitors scampering to clear a path for him.  When he reached the Emergency waiting room he stopped.  Chance was stretched out on one of the two peach-colored sofas, sleeping.  Across the room an older Hispanic man sat, his eyes closed, his lips moving in silent prayer.

The sniper took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.  He briefly considered waking Chance, but changed his mind.  The man needed all the rest he could get.  There wasn't anything worth telling him anyway.

Turning, he headed back down the hall to the triage area, finding Margo leaning against the wall outside a treatment room.  "Any news?" he asked.

She shook her head.  "They told me I should wait in the waiting room.  The doctor'll come tell us when they know something.  I was just too tired to move."

"Damn," Benny Ray sighed.  "What's takin' so damned long?"

Margo offered the man a small smile.  "They'll be all right.  And you know, you're a much better actor than I expected."

A flash of confusion crossed the sniper's face, followed by realization.  He grinned.  "Just like playin' cowboys and Indians.  What the hell happened?"

She shrugged, pushing off the wall and heading back down the hall, Benny Ray falling into step with her.  "He had to be drugged; nothing else makes sense.  I know Matt didn't snap."

"I agree, but how?  Where?"

"Lunch?"

"We all ate at the Snack Shack," Benny Ray acknowledged.  "If that's the source, it couldn't be a random thing."

Margo nodded.  "That's what I was thinking, too.  Someone added it to Matt's food or his drink specifically…"

Benny Ray tsked and nodded, twisting his neck to ease the tension there.  Someone owed them, and he planned to collect – in spades.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Margo sipped on a cup of tepid coffee as she watched the images flickering on the screen of the small television in the waiting room.  CNN was running reports on the ongoing battle between the Clinton White House and Ken Starr.  The volume was off so Chance could sleep – not that she cared about the latest allegations.  Across the room Benny Ray sat, staring down the hall.  The old man who had been there earlier had been met by a doctor, who led him off.  The smile on the man's face told her the news he'd been given was good.  She hoped they were as lucky.

She glanced down at her watch.  Almost two hours had passed since they'd arrived at the hospital.  Beyond the windows the late afternoon sun was turning the smog a deeper shade of orange.  She reached up and rubbed the back of her neck, wishing someone would hurry up and give them some news.  Much longer and she wasn't going to be able to stop Benny Ray from assaulting the nurses' station.

The sniper stood.

She sat the cup down and joined him as an older Asian man in pale green scrubs and a white labcoat walked up to join them.  He extended his hand to Margo first, then Benny Ray as he said, "I'm Doctor Alan Yuduki.  Mister Yates is in recovery now, and he's doing fine.  I'm confident he'll make a full recovery, with a little help from our Physical Therapy technicians."

Margo and Benny Ray exchanged relieved glances.  "When can we see him?" she asked.

The doctor thought a moment.  "He should be in his room by six.  I don't know how awake he'll be, but you can see him then.  Check with the nurses' station on the third floor to see which room he's been assigned."

"Thanks, Doc," Benny Ray said.  "Do you know anything about our other friend?  Matt Shepherd?  He was brought in with C.J."

Yuduki shook his head.  "I'm afraid not.  Check with Helen," he suggested, nodding down the hall towards the nurses' station, "she can tell you who his treating physician is.  You can have the doctor paged."

The doctor left as Chance sat up and swung around to sit on the couch.  "Any news?" he asked, rolling his shoulders to work out the kinks.

The pair walked over to join him, Margo saying, "Benny Ray can fill you in.  I'm going to go see what I can find out from Helen."

Benny Ray gestured to the coffee machine in the corner.  "Getcha somethin'?"

Chance shook his head.  "But thanks.  What's up?"

Benny Ray dropped down to sit next to the pilot.  "C.J.'s outta surgery.  He's gonna be fine.  We can see him in a couple hours."

"Where's Margo going?"

"Find out what's up with the major."

"No word?"

"Nope."

"Is that a bad sign?"

"Hell if I know, compadre."

Both men looked up, then stood as Margo returned a few moments later.  A young woman accompanied her, wearing the doctor's traditional white coat over a pair of well-worn blue jeans and a long sleeve purple t-shirt.  With short brown hair, large brown eyes and light brown skin, she looked more like a college student than a doctor.

Benny Ray met Margo's gaze.  "How's Matt?"

The women answered for her.  "Not well, at the moment, but I think he'll be all right.  If you'll come with me, I'll explain somewhere a little more comfortable."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The name on the plaque next to the door read Dr. Elena Rojas.  She opened the door, allowing them to enter before stepping in behind them and closing the door.  Walking around to sit at her desk, she offered them a reassuring smile before saying, "Here's what we know at the moment.  Mister Shepherd ingested an unknown chemical compound; we're chasing the structure down now, but I'm relatively confident that we're going to find that it's Psikadelic, a new designer drug.  We've been seeing OD cases for the last six months and he's reacting the same way as our other patients."

"But he's going to be okay?" Margo asked.

Dr. Rojas leaned back in her chair.  "I think so.  We're trying to clear the compound from his system now.  The biggest danger with this stuff is the possibility of kidney damage, so we've got him on dialysis to spare his kidneys the trauma.  You brought him in quickly; that's a real plus.  The drug didn't have time to do much damage to his organs."

"What's this Psika-whatever?" Benny Ray asked.

The physician met the sniper's intense gaze.  "It's a kind of LSD clone, though it doesn't act or bind the way LSD does in the body.  Same hallucinatory effect, though.  Bad trips, and the added bonus of heart and kidney damage."

"Who comes up with this stuff?" Chance said, shaking his head.

"People who want to make money and don't care if they have repeat customers," Margo offered.

"I'm afraid you're right," Dr. Rojas nodded.  "Lots of kids are trying this stuff for the high, and they don't seem to heed the warning when their friends drop dead."

"Then the major was lucky," Chance muttered.

"Very," Rojas agreed.  "We're going to keep Mister Shepherd for a couple of days.  Once we clear his system of the drugs we'll run some tests to be sure there was no permanent damage done.  And one of our psychiatrists will check him over, too.  In a few cases we've seen permanent psychosis develop."

"And if he's all right, how soon will he be released?" Margo asked.

The doctor thought a moment.  "I'd say three to five days with a couple of follow-up exams.  However, I don't want to make it sound as if everything's fine.  Mister Shepherd is very shocky at the moment.  We're doing all we can to keep him stabilized, but we're not out of the woods yet.  The next twelve to eighteen hours will tell the tale."

"Can we see him?" Benny Ray asked.

"Not yet.  Maybe tomorrow morning.  Why don't you stop by around nine and have me paged."

Three heads nodded.

The doctor dipped her head, then looked up again, an apologetic expression on her face.  "And I'm afraid we had to report this to the police."

"That's all right," Margo replied.  "We'd like to find out who gave him the drugs, too."

"Because there's no way in hell he took 'em himself," Benny Ray added.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

C.J. heard the commotion as his three teammates entered the small private room, passing his nurse on her way out.  "Hey," he called weakly, waving them over.  "How's Matt?"

Walking over, Margo leaned over the narrow bed and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, saying, "As well as can be expected.  We'll know more tomorrow."

The Brit grinned, looking downright cocky.  "So that's what it takes, huh?"

Margo grinned back, but shook her head.  "Only one per lifetime."

C.J. groaned.

"How you feelin', amigo?"

"At the moment I feel absolutely nothing at all," the demolitions expert admitted with a lopsided grin.  He lifted a small white button attached to his IV line. "Free drugs."

"Whooee, he's flying high," Chance said with a knowing smile.  "That stuff's all right… for a day or two."

"Maybe three," C.J. replied.

"The doctor said you're goin' to be good as new," Benny Ray told him.

"Glad to hear it," C.J. said, blinking owlishly.  "Does anyone know what the devil happened?"

"The major was drugged," Chance informed him.  "Some new designer deal."

"Drugged?  How?"

"The Snack Shack," Benny Ray explained.  "Had to be."

"Lunch…" C.J. said, his eyes dropping closed.  "Reminds me of the time in…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Sitting around the large oak table that occupied the center of the basement at the Silver Star, Margo, Benny Ray and Chance sipped their coffees and bounced ideas off each other about who might have targeted Matt.

"Maybe it's someone from the major's past," Chance offered.  "Our past line of work can generate some grudges."

"Not to mention our present line of work," Benny Ray added.

"Trout would've let us know if anyone had escaped custody, or been released," Margo said, tucking her hair behind an ear.

"That guy…" Benny Ray said, spinning the large bullet through his fingers and nodding.  He looked up, meeting two confused expressions.  "…from the beach a few days ago, the one with the girlfriend."

Recognition registered on both their faces.  "It's possible," Margo said.  "He certainly had the money.  And he looked slimy enough to be a dealer."

"And he had a reason," Chance added.  "He looked real unhappy about losing that girl.  Not that I blame him, she was real pretty."

"And way too good for the likes of him," Margo countered.

"You'll get no argument from me," Chance said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Is she still at Father Bob's?" Margo asked.

"One way to find out," the sniper said, setting the shell down with a sharp bang.  "Let's go see."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The priest smiled brightly when he saw the threesome, but it quickly faded when he noticed the serious expressions they all wore.  "What's wrong?"

" _Padre_ , is that girl we brought in a while back still here?"

"Jill?" he asked, nodding.  "Yes, she is, but–"

"We need to talk to her," Margo said.  "Her boyfriend might've tried to kill Matt."

After she explained the incident and their conclusions Father Bob sighed, puffing his cheeks.  "I'll go get her, but she's still fragile, so go easy with her."

"Roger that," Benny Ray said with a serious nod.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Jill wiped her eyes with a small pink handkerchief and nodded.  "Marty's been dealing for a long time, since he was a kid, he said.  He and some a couple other guys started selling Psikadelic five, maybe six months ago.  They got it from some guy in Miami.  We went to Disney World."

Father Bob reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder.  "Do you know where Marty is, Jill?"

She shook her head.  "We were between places.  That's why he was so mad.  He wanted me to do another video so we could cover the first and last months' rent on a condo he found in Laguna Beach.  He said I owed it to him.  He spent all our money on the trip to Florida and that stuff, but it's getting harder to sell.  People've died.  The kids are scared to try it; some of them, anyway."

"Why didn't you go to the police?" Chance asked.

"I was scared," she said, wiping away fresh tears.  "You don't know Marty.  He's-He's… mean.  He hurt–"  A sob cut her off.

"Easy," the priest soothed.  "You're safe now.  He's not going to hurt you anymore."

She nodded, meeting Chance's black eyes.  "I wanted to, but I was too scared."  She looked away, finally meeting Margo's gaze.  "Is your friend all right?"

"He will be," she assured.  "But I can't say the same about Marty."

"How 'bout this?  Can you tell us where ol' Marty likes to hang out?" Benny Ray asked, his voice soft.

Jill nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Before heading out to see if they could find Slate, the three teammates stopped by the hospital, dropping in on C.J. first.  The man was sleeping soundly, so they left him alone and headed to the nurses' station to have Dr. Rojas paged.

The physician arrived a few minutes later, a smile on her face.  "Good news," she greeted them.  "Mister Shepherd's out of danger and recovering nicely.  We'll be moving him to a private room later today."

All three of the operators allowed themselves to breathe again.  "Can we see him?" Margo asked.

"If you'd like.  He was sleeping the last time I checked in on him, but you can wake him for a few minutes.  He's one floor up in ICU.  Just ask one of the nurses up there to point you in the right direction."

"Thank you, Doctor," Chance said.

"He's quite the fighter.  All of the tests so far indicate that there was no organ damage.  Doctor Whitman will probably run a few tests tomorrow or the next day, but once that's done and I run another set of tests I think we can let him go home."

"Is Whitman the psychiatrist?" Margo asked.

Dr. Rojas nodded.  "It's just a precaution."

"Don't know if Matt's gonna see it that way," Benny Ray said, the corners of his lips curling up in a grin.

Margo's eyebrows peaked and fell.  "I don't know; it might do him some good."

"Let's go say hello," Benny Ray said, then extended his hand to the physician. "Many thanks."

"My pleasure," Rojas replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

When they found Matt was still sound asleep the threesome decided not to disturb him.  At Margo's request, Chance agreed to stay at the hospital and keep an eye on the two injured men.  None of them thought Slate would make another attempt on Matt's life, but it wouldn't hurt to be careful.  Besides, the black man was still sore and weak and leaving him at the hospital meant he would get some much needed rest himself.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Four hours later, Margo and Benny Ray left the last of Slate's known hang-outs.  Climbing into the black GMC, he maneuvered into traffic while Margo used the cell phone to call Chance.

"'Lo."

"Hi, Chance," she said.  "How's everybody doing?"

"Hold on a sec," he said.  "Got a surprise for you."

She waited, knowing what was coming, but smiling nonetheless when Matt's voice echoed over the phone, saying, "You find him yet?"

She flashed the phone at Benny Ray, mouthing "It's Matt."  He nodded with a grin.

Turning her attention back to the conversation, she said, "Not yet.  Seems like he dropped out of sight a couple of days ago.  How are you?"

"I feel like I went ten rounds with a hungry grizzly, that's how I feel.  And I'm pissed off.  I wanna find this guy and–"

"You're not the only one," Margo assured him.  "We'll swing by, pick Chance up and head back to the Silver Star.  Maybe we can find something to tell us where Slate's disappeared to with the computer."

"Roger that.  I think he'll be glad to get the hell out of here."

"Any word on when they're going to let you go?"

"Doctor Rojas stopped by a little while ago.  She said day after tomorrow if all goes well."

"Okay, you rest.  We'll see you in a little while."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After a brief visit with Matt, the three operatives headed back to the Silver Star.  The phone was ringing as they entered, and Benny Ray sprinted ahead to scoop it up.  "Yeah, hello."

"Hello?"

"Who is this?" he asked.

"J-Jill.  Marty's here.  I'm scared."

"Okay, sweetheart, just stay put.  We're on the way.  Stay put."  He hung up, moving back toward the door.  "Slate's at the church.  Let's move, people."

The three hurried to grab their equipment.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Benny Ray parked a block away from the church, the three working their way carefully but swiftly to the building from three different directions.

Benny Ray reached the converted warehouse first.  Leaning back against the side of the building, he said into the lip-mike he wore, "One, in place."

A few moments later Margo's voice stated, "Two in place."

"Three," Chance said, panting slightly.

"Three, are you a go?" Benny Ray asked, worried about the man's stamina.

"Roger."

"On my mark.  One… two… three."

They slipped into to the building through three separate doors, conducting a quick search.  Margo found one of the volunteers at the back of the building with the other women and children who were staying at the shelter.  Margo instructed her to get the people out and away from the building, covered their exit, then moved on.

Chance found no one as he moved through several small offices, two classrooms, a playroom and a library.

Benny Ray located Slate in the chapel along with Father Bob, Jill and another woman they recognized as a volunteer from earlier visits.  Standing just outside the room on either side of the door, he could hear the priest trying to talk Slate into putting his gun down.  But the dealer wasn't buying.  He used the radio to signal the others, then waited for the other two.

Father Bob continued to reason with the man, but Slate was slowly growing more and more agitated.

"Sounds drunk, maybe stoned," Chance said softly next to Benny Ray's ear.

The sniper nodded and held up a flash bang grenade.  The other two nodded.  He pointed to himself, then Margo, indicating that they would go in first and second.  Chance would secure the hallway and keep anyone else who might still be in the building out of the line of fire.

They inched closer to the door.  Benny Ray tossed in the grenade.  The two women and Slate all screamed.

The operators knew Slate's ears would be ringing and he'd be blinded due to the quickfire chain of explosions and blinding light.  Benny Ray rolled into the room and to the right, so low he might have been sitting down, his weapon held high and stiff-armed.  Margo rolled through the door to the left just behind him.

Slate squinted through eyes streaming with tears, catching a glimpse of the movement.  "Stop!" he screamed, clutching Jill closer.  He'd turned the young woman into a shield, holding her against his chest, his left arm under her left arm and snugged tightly across her breasts.  The muzzle of his Browning was pressed tightly against her head.  "Stop or I'll kill her!" he cried.

"Hurt her and you're dead," Margo snapped back.  "Drop your gun and put your hands up.  Now!"

Slate stared through the tears.  Margo and Benny Ray had their weapons turned on him, and the black man was in the hallway, covering them.  He stared down the black openings at the front of the two gun barrels and cursed under his breath.  "No!" he yelled.  " _You_ put down your weapons.  Now!  Then back out of here."

"Son," Father Bob said calmly.  "I want you to listen to me.  These people are professional soldiers, well trained Special Forces operatives.  They can kill you where you stand before you can pull that trigger.  Please, put the gun down.  No one has to die here."

"No!" Slate shrieked, looking at the priest.  "Tell 'em to leave!"

"We can't do that," Benny Ray said.  "Now, put the gun down and let the girl go."

"It's _not_ gonna happen," Slate hissed.  "She's mine.  I keep what's mine!"

Margo moved closer to the man, a taunting expression on her face.  "Not man enough to find another one?  Is that it?"

"Bitch!" Slate snapped, grinding the gun harder against Jill's head.  She whimpered and pulled at his arm, but he gave her a hard jerk and she went limp, tears streaming down her face.

"I'll bet you're not a man at all," Margo continued, inching further across the room, away from the priest and the volunteer.  As she moved, so too did Benny Ray, positioning himself for a clear shot on the other side.

The muzzle of Slate's gun left Jill's head, sweeping across in an arc to aim at Margo.  Benny Ray's weapon spoke once like the slam of a door and Slate jumped back, the gun flying from his hand as he hit the wall and slid down into a broken heap.

Margo and Benny Ray both moved in, she grabbing the Browning, he checking Slate.  "Call an ambulance," he said and the volunteer immediately scampered for the phone.

Father Bob crouched down next to Slate to do what he could.  He noted that the wound wasn't life threatening and looked up at Benny Ray.  "Damn nice shot."

The sniper grinned.  "I aim to please, _Padre_.  I'm just sorry it had to happen in the church."

The priest glanced over his shoulder, watching Margo and Chance escorting Jill away.  "I think He'll understand, son."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Two days later Benny Ray sat in the GMC, waiting while Margo and Chance collected Matt and C.J.  He grinned, remembering the phone conversation with Shepherd the night before.  The hospital had seen fit to place the two men in the same room for the last two days of their recuperation, and C.J.'s banter was wearing thin… something about a joke he'd heard dealing with a hippo and a goose feather.  The sniper shook his head, grateful he hadn't been the one confined with the chatty Brit.  If he had, Benny Ray was certain he'd be on his way to jail for manslaughter – justifiable, of course – instead of home to the Silver Star.

The automatic door slid open and the four exited.  C.J. looked as good as new, with the exception of the sling that still cradled his arm.  He was smiling and talking.  Matt, however, still looked tired and pale.  Benny Ray watched him squint against the brightness of the morning sun, then reach up to rub his temple briefly.  _Must be one helluva headache_ , he concluded.

He waited as the four climbed in, Matt sliding into the passenger seat next to him.  "How you feelin'?"

"Better," Shepherd said.  "But my head feels like a flash-bang went off inside."

"I'll be sure not to make any sudden stops," Benny Ray promised.

"I'd appreciate it," Matt said, gingerly pulling his seatbelt across his chest and clicking it into place.

"Home, James," C.J. intoned from the back seat.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Back at the Silver Star the five operators gathered in the space they considered their living room, the healthy members of the team again reassuring themselves that the other two were going to be all right before wandering off.  Chance volunteered for coffee detail, heading into the kitchen to make a pot.  Margo ducked out while the coffee brewed, picking up a half-dozen fresh-baked cinnamon rolls from a shop on the beach.  And in the kitchen, Benny Ray arranged the medications each man had been sent home with so they'd be sure to receive their pills and capsules at the appropriate time, and in the appropriate dosage.  C.J. passed by on his way to get a spoon, muttering something about "anal retentive," but the sniper ignored him.

Once Margo returned the food and coffee were quickly dispersed.  After several bites passed in comfortable silence, Matt cleared his throat and said, "I just want to apologize for what happened."  He looked pointedly at C.J.  "I honestly never meant to hurt you."  He looked up.  "Any of you."

"No problem, Major, I'll be good as new," the Brit replied.  "And it's not like you were in your right mind."

"I'd say he was completely out of his mind," Margo added, her eyes full of laughter.

"Gee, thanks, Margo," Matt replied dryly.  "Look, people, I'm just trying to say I'm sorry for putting you though that."

"Matt," she said, "we know that.  And we forgive you."

"See how easy?" Chance said with a grin.

"Just needed a woman's touch," Benny Ray agreed.

Margo flashed him a smile.  "Of course.  Otherwise you guys would sit around all morning trying to find a macho way of saying 'we understand, we care, it's okay and we love you anyway.'"

"A 'macho' way…?"  Matt shook his head.  "Okay, maybe you have a point, but–"

"Major," C.J. interrupted, "it was just one of those things.  It's not something you could've done a bloody thing about.  It rather reminds me of the time when–"

"The Indian rebel and the British sergeant major–" Chance started to finish the tale.

"All right, all right," C.J. said, surrendering the story.  "But you get my point.  What's done is done."

"I appreciate that," Matt said.  "But if I _ever_ hear that hippo story again–"

"Next time I'll let 'im shoot you," Benny Ray finished.

The group broke into healing laughter.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Later that afternoon Matt sat behind his desk, the files neatly rearranged from where he'd shoved them onto the floor while in the throes of his return to Bosnia.  He nodded to himself.  Cleaning up the files had also felt like cleaning up his life.  He'd put all the pieces back where they belonged.  It really was over.

Except for one small detail.

He turned the Glock over in his hands.  The Beretta was back in the drawer, where it belonged, but the Glock was the one piece that was still unresolved.  He set the weapon down and started to stand, but the man he was about to go looking for walked by. 

"Benny Ray," he called.

The sniper stopped and returned to the doorway.  "Yeah, Boss?"

"Can you spare a minute?"

"Sure," Benny Ray said, stepping inside.  "What's up?"

Matt picked up the Glock and handed it to him.  Benny Ray accepted it with a nod and a thin smile.  Leaning back in his chair, Matt asked softly, "Would you have done it?"

The younger man considered the question a moment, then shrugged.  "This time?  No.  If there's a next time… I don't know."

Matt frowned slightly.  "I'm not sure I like that answer, Benny Ray."

"Not sure I do either," the man admitted, meeting Shepherd's appraising gaze, "but that's the truth."

"Why?"

Another shrug and Benny Ray dipped his head.  "Part of my job's turning human beings into targets.  I couldn't do it."  He looked back up again, meeting Matt's eyes.  "Could you?"

Shepherd thought a moment, then grinned.  "I don't know."

"Well, then, I guess we're even."

  


* * *

[1]  SOF Episode "Last Chance."

[2]  SOF episode "Broken Play."


End file.
